Conversations Without Words
by r'n'rb
Summary: They held conversations without words, because when it came to speaking, neither of them could ever say the right thing. A collection of one-shots centered around Casey and Cappie. Now with a Post Finale oneshot
1. Selfishness vs Fate

**Conversations Without Words.**

* * *

Summary: They held conversations without words, because when it came to speaking, neither of them could ever say the right thing.

A series of one-shots depicting the various incarnations of Casey and Cappie's relationship. Some will be connected others will be standalone's.

For now the rating is T - it can always go up ( or down) with the coming chapters.

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**Selfishness vs Fate**

She wonders whether it is selfishness or fate that keeps landing her on his door step. The bitter knowledge of her current social position in the sorority has her learning toward the former, and she's only too sure that Rebecca and Frannie would be eager to point that out. And it is selfish; she is selfish. Here on the porch of the Kappa Tau's, only hours after her relationship with Max met its demise , she sees this clearly, and with a heavy sense of resignation she mentally gives Rebecca a congratulatory handshake: " You were right Becky dear, I am nothing if not incredibly selfish". The words ring true, inside her head and muttered quietly into the cold night.

In retrospect every move she has made as been about her: Her goals, her social ambitions. It's always about Casey. Casey, Casey, Casey. And in this moment, being perfectly honest with herself, there is no one she is sicker of than Casey. Casey is a selfish, lying, manipulative, bitch, who can't step out of her own fucking bubble so she destroys the relationships around her, Ashleigh, Cappie, Rusty-even her relationship with Evan stemmed from her selfish motives.

The door behind her creaks open and she listens hard for the soft footsteps that follow. She knows it's him: She feels his presence, hears his soft sigh and wants nothing more than to turn around and take the comfort she knows he will offer.

"Casey?"

His voice is a whisper of a caress, carrying through the air around her and she shudders. She wants' to turn around, so, so fucking badly. She wants to return his vocal touch with a tangible one of her own. But everything now seems lost in her sea of selfish motives and she becomes unsure of her own intent here. She can't risk it, can't let the selfishness win and risk the chance of Cappie waking up alone with her bra wedged between the bed and the wall. She can't be selfish and do this one more time to him, one time too many.

"Casey, wh-?"

But she is moving before she can hear the rest of his words. Every muscle in her body screams in protest, she feels physically ill; her stomach nauseous, her chest as if something was being ripped out. She doesn't turn around, though every fibre in her being wants to.

Her cheeks begin to feel damp as the tears fall freely now. She wants to turn around.

But tonight in an act of selflessness she does not turn around, she keeps on running, and it is only on the steps on her own porch that she wonders if this is selfish too.

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Part II

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She wonders whether it is selfishness or fate that keeps landing him on her door step. Part of her knew that he would follow when she fled, but the other part of her had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice the sound of his footfalls as he chased after her.

Now he is behind her once again, his eyes burning holes in her spine as she burns holes in the door.

"Casey"

His voice is louder now, she picks apart the tones: concern, love and the tiniest bit of irritation. The latter note encourages her, she needs this, she needs his anger – deserves it after all she's done to him.

She turns.

Immediately she wishes she hadn't. Confrontations were so much easier when she didn't have to hold his gaze.

She opens and closes her mouth, but her brain it seems, is refusing to supply the words needed.

Cappie says nothing; his face is unreadable, impassive almost as he peers at her. She knows he sees the tears by now, if this were any other night he'd be wiping them away by now. But this feels different, she feels different, as if her actions back at his porch had set things in motion; he must feel it too.

Several tense moments slip by, but for once she finds herself unable to take any sort of initiative- she is unable to move, save for the slight twitches of her hand as her body reacts to his proximity. He sighs, clearly aware that the ball is ,for some reason or another, in his park. Her eyes follow him as he steps forward and seats himself on the steps. She feels dazed, and it is only after a good minute of him patting the space beside him that she realizes that he is motioning for her to sit as well.

His hand makes its way to her back and although she feels selfish for wanting- needing- his care she makes no move to push him away, instead she loses herself in the motions of his hand as it moves in soothing circles. Something in him knows her too well, knows she needs comforting and knows she'll speak when she's ready. He stays silent and when her voice reaches into the night she is surprised by the words that fall from her lips, for once not over thinking each syllable, just speaking – not from the heart, she is not there yet, but just simply stating herself as best she can.

"Cappie, I am so sorry" She stares straight ahead, knowing she wouldn't be able to finish if she can his reaction. She feels it though as his hand stills on her shoulders.

She continues, taking comfort in the fact that he hadn't removed his touch entirely.

"I'm just so, so sorry. For everything I put you through"

He laughs; the sound is new to her. It is bitter and harsh and she wants nothing more than to soothe him into his usual carefree chuckles. He sighs then and she can feel him turn to face her, she doesn't turn back just yet.

"Where's this coming from Case? You've been so different lately – what's going on?"

A new surge of self directed anger fills her; here he was being attentive again and instead of feeling comforted she feels nothing but the acidic burn of her selfishness.

She tells him so, moving out of his grasp as she does.

"Don't Cappie, please don't. I don't deserve your comfort right now. I just ...I. Look I've been doing some thinking recently and fuck Cappie, I've been awful to you" She exhales deeply before continuing.

"I've used you so much, and you've done nothing but accommodate my selfishness. You don't deserve this."

He sighs and she can feel him shift uncomfortably beside her.

"You know what Case? You're right"

He sighs again and she stops breathing. His answer though necessary, though expected, was too much. She stands suddenly, unable to take it, unable to take him, herself, everything. She is shaking, hyperventilating, and the tears are coming so fast now she can't see straight.

Suddenly his arms are around her, coddling her, restraining her retreat in the most gentle, perfect way. She struggles and he holds her, she struggles and he holds her until she falls limp into his embrace. And then there is just breathing, the warmth of his breath near her ear, and the sound of her ragged gasps as she fights for her self control.

His voice breaks the pattern and she finds herself leaning into the sound of it.

"You know, you always had trouble letting me finish. Look, I didn't deserve what you did to me, no one does. But these are the things we risk for love Case. This cycle we've gotten ourselves into, it's unhealthy but it's not your fault. You may leave in the morning but it's not like I've really tried to stop you."

He laughs this time, and it is weary but free of bitterness.

"The point is I don't deserve this, but you don't either. You don't deserve to beat yourself up for something like this. The way you see yourself, it's not right. What is selfish is you wallowing inside your self pity instead of taking the help I'm offering."

She closes her eyes as he plants a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"I know I am going to get hurt, but I know you hurt too and I know I'm the only one that can stop you from hurting yourself. So this hurt..."

He pulls away, his arms holding her shoulders until she is facing, fully looking at him with nothing in the way. He is smiling softly and she thinks she feels herself trying to return it.

"This hurt is worth it. This is just how life, love, fate, whatever has decided to play its cards".

She bites her lip, not quite ready to let go her of selfishness.

"But what about-"

He pulls her in again, and she finds herself happily drowning in his embrace.

"Stop Case. Stop worrying, stop over analyzing. All I know is that we hurt each other, badly, in ways neither of us deserve. But when we're apart, that what hurts worse."

She feels ridiculously melodramatic, but somehow it doesn't matter. Nothing is fixed- she still hurts, with the knowledge that he does as well, and there is the reality of Max and Evan and all her problems that will greet her in the morning-yet at the same time none of it matters and everything is fixed.

She wonders whether it is selfishness or fate that keeps landing her on his door step. Perhaps it is both; perhaps she is just a selfish girl, defenceless at the hands of fate.

And then none of it matters. Only the feeling of his arms, of his breath on her ear and the soft sigh that escapes her as she hugs him tighter.

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Thanks for reading and as always REVIEWS ARE THE BREATH OF LIFE and are always appreciated.

xoxo

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	2. Friends

Conversations Without Words.

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Summary: They held conversations without words, because when it came to speaking, neither of them could ever say the right thing.

A series of one-shots depicting the various incarnations of Casey and Cappie's relationship. Some will be connected others will be standalone's.

For now the rating is T - it can always go up ( or down) with the coming chapters.

* * *

Friends.

_Friends_. The word confused him, left him for once without a witty comment or sarcastic criticism. The undefined implications of it would catch him off guard at times and leave him stumbling, dizzy and at worst a little ill.

At the present moment he was once again contemplating the ramifications of this new undiscovered territory with a guiding pint of beer in some nameless, faceless bar, whose patrons were equally nameless and faceless. He had no intentions of connecting any names and faces tonight, instead he sought the solitary company of the cheap beer and the confusion that his thoughts were currently bringing him. He needed to be alone tonight; he needed to think.

For the life of him he could not decide if friends was better or worse than before. Friends was an awkward in between: They would never, could never be the friends that chatted endlessly, aimlessly about nothings and everything's. Another sip of his beer brought the realization that he in no way desired that type of friendship with Casey anyways. He had his brothers for that, and no matter how normal they both tried to act around each other He knew without a doubt that Casey and he would never be friends in the normal sense, it was if not impossible then completely irrational and if anything did a major disservice to their past.

A deep swallow emptied his glass and he signaled the bartender for another refill, his fourth? Fifth perhaps? And yet he had not felt the telltale signs of buzz, his eyes had not blurred, he felt only marginally warmer and most irritatingly his head had not settled into a comfortably cloudy daze, no instead he was painfully aware of the clarity of his thoughts.

He sighed. This was not hell; he had been through nights much worse, his thoughts much darker than now. This was not hell. Evan was hell. Evan was the very worst hell, barging into Dobbler's with Casey in tow. Even now it pained him to think of it; those nights were hell, Evan's very presence a sharp reminder of a shattered friendship and the loss of his most cherished relationship. "The" relationship that had defined all his romantic encounters the following year and a half, nothing had, and he was sure that nothing would ever quite measure up. He missed Casey, like hell.

This was not hell, but at the same time he yearned for it. At least hell had a name, someone to blame for all his pain and more importantly a clear definition of his and Casey's relationship: Ex's, who exchanged no more than thinly veiled barbs and on his part a burning contempt for Evan.

This was purgatory he decided as he brought the new beer to his lips. This was undefined, confusing and ultimately upsetting because it would never be enough and now there was no one to blame but his own lack of nerve. A lack of nerve for which he held Casey solely responsible, he was too scared to be crushed again. The brave, outgoing, spontaneous, so -called fearless leader of the Kappa Tau's was to scared to admit to the girl he knew so intimately that he cared for her. Casey had crushed him too many times for him to bounce back quickly, if at all. There was no bitterness in this judgment- his love for the blonde Zeta Beta ran to deep to ever hold anything against her- however there was copious amounts of regret that no amount of beer or friendship could erase.

He shrugged his shoulders to his ears, attempting to alleviate the tension that had built in time with his thoughts. Another sip, another influx of confusing emotions.

This was purgatory. The concept of friends grew more and more ridiculous the more he thought about it, and he struggled to keep himself from laughing. Casey and he would never be friends. They were past lovers who had known heaven, and ex's who had experienced hell. Even now with the label forced onto them, they were not friends. Coffee before class and drinks afterward felt too close to date for it not to be awkward, dinner was not an option and the mere thought of them hanging out in his room was off limits. He shut off any fantasies of her and him in his room, with a shake of his head. The concept could not stay platonic for more than a millisecond before he lost himself in a haze of fire, tangled sheets, crushed lips, molded bodies and of course tumbling golden locks splayed across his pillow.

A yawn escaped him, he was tired. Chugging the rest of his beer he motioned for the bill, acutely aware that it was only nine-o'clock on a Friday and he was already calling it a night.

He shook his head as he met the cool night air, feeling surprising second wind takeover. Perhaps he needed change scenery, a change of pace. Unwittingly the image of Casey's Zeta Beta Zeta room cam to mind, and his fingers twitched toward his phone. He was not versed in the etiquette of their so called friendship, would it be within the lines to call her now? Invite her out, somewhere, anywhere? (_As long as it was with her any local would do_).

A soft breeze reached him, fluttering the edge of his thin shirt, alerting his skin to the cool temperature. Despite his previous lethargy he felt nervous, excited as another realization dawned on him at a surprising rate.

A small smile worked its way onto his face. This was purgatory, but dammit if there was anyone he knew better than himself it was Casey. If he was feeling off about this situation then she must be aware of it too, of the overwhelming wrongness of this forced platonic stasis. And even more overwhelming was the knowledge of Casey's will, she was a doer - if change was to occur she would be the instigator, all he had to do was point her in the right direction.

His phone was at his ear and ringing before he had time to register dialing. His smile grew: This was purgatory but he would not stay here forever. He was sure of it.

* * *

So, I started watching old epi's of Greek last month and I am seriously obsessed! Cappie and Casey's relationship was noticeable from the a brief exchange on the first episode I watched - I didn't even know they had been together and I was already cannonzing them. (Also I'm not sure where all the religious references started popping up but they ended up shaping the story- in this sense I am using the universal definition of heaven and hell not the biblical version)

Anyways, I am not the best updater ( college can do that to you), and my ideas change all the time so I work best with one shots - hence this collection.

I am a lazy editor so I probs have lots of spelling and grammar issues thats I'll get around to sometime.

Thanks for reading and as always REVIEWS ARE THE BREATH OF LIFE and are always appreciated.

xoxo

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	3. Flour and Sand

**Conversations Without Words.**

* * *

Summary: They held conversations without words, because when it came to speaking, neither of them could ever say the right thing.

A series of one-shots depicting the various incarnations of Casey and Cappie's relationship. Some will be connected others will be standalone's.

For now the rating is T - it can always go up ( or down) with the coming chapters.

Chapter Three: Flour and Sand takes place on the spring break episode right after Asleigh and Casey talk on the beach.

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**Flour and Sand**

There is flour everywhere. She thinks there may be a counter and a stove underneath, but honestly she can't be sure. All she sees is white, a floating, dancing, spiralling downwards; a pretty explosion of white. The flour coats the walls, her not-quite-as-white t-shirt and it absolutely covers the boy standing in front of her in a fine white dust.

She laughs and hits his shoulder playfully; a mini storm of powder starts in the wake of her impact. "I told you the bag opened from the other side"

He grins, not remotely apologetic and shrugs carelessly.

She hits him again, just because. But this time she leaves her hand there as the white settles back down.

"Don't grin you silly boy. Now we have no flour. And no flour means no breakfast"

She emphasizes her little speech with a pout, her eyes smiling along with the silly beautiful flour covered boy in front of her.

His hands are grasping her shoulders before she has time to register it. A small "ommph" escapes her as he pulls her into his chest. She wriggles in protest but then his lips are near her ear and she is lost in the warm sigh of his breath.

His voice is husky and a little bit gravely, not quite recovered and woken from sleep, she doesn't even bother to hide the shivers that tremble down her spine.

"You know, there is a different kind of breakfast we can have. Ever heard of dessert in the morning?"

And then she is laughing as she tries to push him away, and he is grinning at her wickedly as he holds her close enough that she can't escape him entirely but far enough to see her face. He leans in, his lips full, enticing and pursed.

"Cappie st-"

Her attempt to stop him is half-hearted and his lips are covering hers before she can really be bothered to move. There is the slight ashy taste of flour, but it is quickly lost to something she recognizes as distinctly Cappie, and of course distinctly delicious. She sighs into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair, her hips pressing against him, her entire being moulding to his. She can feel his lips twitch up into a smile and she sneaks in a small bite before he pulls away.

Somewhere along the way they had moved onto the flour covered floor. He pulls her closer, onto his lap and once his hands have stopped lifting they are at her hair, stroking, twirling, playing; adoring.

"We'll have pancakes another time" She says, her thumb gently tracing his lips. He nips at it playfully before nodding. His hands full of her hair, softly guide her head towards his until they are but a whispers breath away, noses touches, lips almost close enough...

"We're not really the baking type anyways" He kisses her lightly, smiling.

She laughs, and then peers up at him through her lashes.

"We could always try pie"

He nods in faux-seriousness.

"We could try pie, but" He kisses her on the nose; she wrinkles it in response and looks pointedly at his lips. He laughs and one of his hands drops to caress the skin on her thigh where the t-shirt had ridden up.

"But don't you think that we're a more suited to the premade kind, you never know when we're going to need pie. Imagine what would happen if we had to bake it each time" He raises his eyebrows suggestively and she laughs kissing him hard, and pushing his chest until he leans back onto the floor as she tumbles on top.

"However, if this is what happens when we bake. Then we should definitely try more often. Ha! We should enrol in cooking school. You could wear nothing but an apr-"

She kisses him to shut him up.

"Cap, knowing you, I don't think we'd ever make it off the floor"

He smirks triumphantly.

"That's the point babe"

And then his lips are on her, on her mouth, her neck, and the dip in her shirt, his hands are everywhere else touching, grasping and sending little flour storms off her skin and into the air. Only once do they break apart to sneeze simultaneously- in that moment she registers a cloud of white above: It is pale like snow and floating everywhere. "Pretty" She mumbles and then nothing matters but his lips against her lips, his skin on her skin and the dusty, sandy feel of flour on her skin.

This feels wrong, she feels wrong.

Her hands brush her arms and she feels a gritty substance instead of the soft powder. Her eyes open and she takes in a light brown colour before registering that it is not flour on her arms but sand, and she is not on the kitchen floor of Kappa Tau, but on Myrtle Beach.

It all comes rushing back too fast. Ten year plans gone, Cappie, sandcastles, Cappie, drunken Rebecca, Cappie...

Cappie's kiss. The kiss, the kiss, that perfect kiss.

And she is struck by how right that particular memory feels. And then by how wrong it should feel.

Cappie leaving to comfort Rebecca.

The look of adoration after their kiss. The look of despair as he left her in the lobby.

The tears are stinging her eyes before she knows it, and she brushes them away harshly as she stretches, and then winces feeling the effects of a night spent sleeping outdoors. She looks around, it's still early, before dawn she thinks. In the back of her mind she wonders why Ashleigh let her sleep out here, but she finds herself mulling over other, more pressing concepts: The comfort of her dream, the comfort of his kiss, and the comfort of the fact that it is still early.

It is still early she thinks, still early enough for things to repair, to change, and to start anew.

It is still early: It is not too late.

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Thanks for reading and as always REVIEWS ARE THE BREATH OF LIFE and are always appreciated.

xoxo

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	4. Chances

**Chances _( In Which There are several "One Last Chance(s)")_**

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**Casey**

Her eyes are narrowed in on the white sphere; she pulls her arm back and grounds herself: Ready, set...

_Okay, focus Casey, focus. You've got this. You've mastered every other sport with a ball hell you were captain of the volleyball team, you've got this in the bag. Focus. _

But then his fingers graze her hips and she trembles.

Go.

The cue misses the ball by a mile and jars against the green felt violently. She frowns and turns around to face him, only to find him much closer than she remembered. His hips are pressing against hers, his arms around her, clasping the side of the table. His lips are at her ear and he laughs, his warm breath against her skin.

"You missed"

She sticks her tongue out immaturely.

"You cheated"

He holds his hand to his heart in mock offence.

"Why Miss Cartwright, I'm shocked that you would think that of me."

She laughs and flicks the hand on his heart for good measure.

"You know what; I think you're scared that I might actually be good at this"

He looks sceptical at the idea of her being good, and raises and exaggerated eyebrow just to show her how much he thinks so. Inwardly she agrees: she is hopeless at the sport. Outwardly she bristles, and crosses her arms, putting a miniscule amount of distance between them. A necessary distance too, she realizes, necessary so she can think; whenever he came to close her thoughts always clouded over into a nice fuzzy blob of incoherency.

He uncrosses her arms and links his hands with hers. She feels a childlike urge to blush at his actions; sometimes he was just too cute.

Then, naturally, he nullifies his actions by speaking.

"Look Case, we both know that pool and you will never be friends, at least not without another few decades of practice"

She resists the urge to laugh along with him, her pride was still slightly intact and she intended to keep it that way for a while at least.

"Alright, alright. I get it I suck at pool. And on that note I'm going to get a drink before I do something stupid like break by pool cue or throw a ball at your head".

She makes to pull away but he grips her hands tighter.

"Aww come on Case, you know I was kidding. One more game? I'll pay for the pie if you win. Come on. One more chance?"

She lets herself be pulled into him, but instead of picking up the pool cue she kisses him, effectively ending any possibilities of rematches, drinks at the bar or trips to the bakery. At least for the time being.

* * *

**Cappie**

Irritation.

No, pure anger.

It is the first thing that registers in his mind as he walks into the room. It also occurs to him that no one else can wear anger quite as well as Casey can. His is way past tipsy so the concept of sexy/angry Casey holds his attention and prevents him from immediately asking what's wrong and rectifying the situation. In fact it is only when she storms off of his bed and plants herself in front of him that his focus is shifted off the sexy angry parts of Casey and on to the matter at hand. Why is Casey sexy angry, well just angry. Sexy should be left to another time, when a more thorough examination could be completed without risk of castration. He shakes himself to attention again, and stifles the urge to jump back at the look in her eye. He swallows, lips suddenly dry, throat swollen and aching.

"What's wrong babe?" _Did Frannie accidentally dye all your undies pink again?_

Despite his drunken state he knows better than to make a joke, but he bites his lip just in case.

She hisses in response, and suddenly he wants to sit. Hissing Casey, leads to yelling Casey, and right now he is too drunk, right now the lights are spinning, warm, and just a little blinding. Right now he just wants to curl up and sober up over old chick flicks while running his fingers through her golden locks. But right now what he wants refuses to manifest and hissing Casey segues seamlessly into yelling Casey.

"Do you know how long I waited for you? Do you know how embarrassing it was so show up to my parent's dinner with Evan? My boyfriend's roommate, instead of my boyfriend."

He feels himself physically crumbling with the shame that he spent the evening drinking away his nerves at meeting the parents until he never actually got to meet the parents. But how could he explain that he got to the restaurant only to find Evan chatting up Mr. And Mrs. Cartwright, how could he explain that he never felt so out of place in his life? The explanation is somewhere on his tongue but the excess of alcohol consumed post spotting Evan with his girlfriends family has made it impossible.

He Falters.

"Case, look-"

"No Cappie, you look. Fuck I'm sick of this, I'm sick of pretending that Frannie isn't right about you, I'm sick of standing up for you and saying that you really are a sweet caring boyfriend when you seem so intent on proving me wrong. So you know what? We're done."

Somehow he is still standing. He doesn't know how, because right now it feels like the ground just disappeared from under his feet and he is falling into a bottomless abyss.

He hears himself plead, he hears himself and realizes its a lost cause.

"One more chance Casey, please"

But He is talking to an empty room and the echo of a slammed door. Finally he hits the floor, and it takes a long time for him to get up.

* * *

**Casey**

Her neck feels oddly bare without his letters hanging around, bare but relieved. Having sat with her humiliation after Evan had stripped her of the lavaliere for quite some time; she is able to look upon the bare spot on her neck with a new clarity. She feels guilty that she is not an inconsolable ball of tears in the corner, she feels guilty that she is not hurting the way she did when she broke up with Cappie. She feels guiltier that she knew all along that this or any other breakup would never be as hard.

Evan's Casey would have been sitting in the corner balling over her lost love, but she realizes now that she was never really Evan's Casey. Evan's Casey was another girl, another world reminiscent of nineteen fifties housewives, there was something "Pleasantville-y" and "Stepford-esque" about the way she had acted with him, willing to forgive all his transgression for the greater good of their relationship. If she didn't feel so detached from Evan's Casey she would have felt embarrassed about the whole sham of a relationship, instead she regards it like a B-grade movie; mildly interesting but she could live if she missed the end, or never found out what happened at the start. Not like her and Cappie, if they were a movie, they would be a five stars, cult classic, Oscar worthy, tear jerking comedy/drama/love story of epic proportions. She and Cappie would be up there with the Titanic, which, she decides is a very fitting comparison: A happy, carefree exploration of new love in the beginning and a tragic crash into frigid surroundings in the end.

And then her newfound sense of clarity snaps her out of her cinematic images and in the present scene as she looks at herself in the mirror, and finds her eyes drawn ( for the millionth time) to the small pendant that Cappie had given her as a birthday present just before they broke up. Her eyes widen and her fists clench – she is not ready to throw her heart into the ocean just yet. She is rewriting the ending as she makes her way out of the house and onto the campus. She is not watching him fade as she clings to a door, no she is down there with him, shivering and taking that last breath together, or better yet she is moving over half an inch so they can share the floatation device – she's not ready for them to sink just yet.

Her romanticized vision of Jack/Cappie and Rose/Casey fades into nothingness and Dobbler's materializes before her eyes. She spies the back of his head almost immediately and with the determined step of a survivor she strides over to him.

Only to freeze in shock as Rebecca sits herself down on his lap and winds her wretched hands into his hair. The water starts to seep over the edges of the door and she can feel that the thin slab of wood can't hold them up against the power of the Atlantic; one of them has to move off and face the current. And as Cappie leans into Rebecca's kiss she sees that he already has, that he already has slipped off her raft and into another.

She swallows, her face feels hot and angry but she can't for the life of her take her eyes off the kissing couple. She is vaguely aware that she has standing in the middle of a crowded bar and not so subtly watching Rebecca eat Cappie's face but she can't move, can't stop watching.

And then suddenly she is angry. In the back of her mind she realizes that her anger is irrational but she feels like she has been dumped twice in one day, and fuck it there is no one else to blame but Cappie, who clearly didn't fight hard enough to keep her raft afloat.

Clearly Cappie was a firm believer in ruining his chances of survival, because he obviously was too stupid to see that if they worked together they could have made it, they could have kept the raft afloat and drifted ashore and lived happily ever freaking after.

She wants to scream, she wants to pull that skank off of him and tell him that there is still time, that neither of them has to freeze, that they can both come out alive, and more importantly, come out together. But instead she stands still, her eyes fixated on the this-close-to-publicly-copulating-couple, until she can take it no more and then she is turning around stiffly, ignoring the influx of tears streaming down her cheeks.

It's his fault she decides.

He ruined his last chance and now he is going to drown and freeze while she watches sits miserable on her makeshift raft.

( Still as she leaves, she can't help but wonder if this time she is the one in the water and he is the one getting pulled to shore.)

* * *

**Cappie**

There had always been a magnetic force field around Casey: It was as if every time she came within a hundred metres of him his eyes would lock onto her course and he would be pulled, willingly, unwillingly to her.

This time was no different: He spots her as soon as she enters the party, and because he knows her better than either of them are willing to admit, he can see she is upset. She looks flawless of course, her Alice in Wonderland costume so close to indecent he has to take a deep steadying breath to calm himself. But he can tell she's not right; her smile seems brittle and her stance a little fragile.

The drink in his hand is like an iron weight holding him in place, he wants nothing more than to give into the force field and let himself be pulled to her. But given.... everything it seems inappropriate. Their casual friendship is so tentative that he doubts he has it in him to hold another false conversation that degrades their past and all they've been through, and from the looks of it she isn't up to it tonight either.

So he ignores the pull of her and clutches his drink a little tighter, he feels futile, like a moth closing its eyes so as not to see the flame. In lieu of Rebecca and his breakup and his brittle friendship with Casey everything feels too raw for a confrontation, even of the fake kind. So he sips his drink and turns away, there is no flame, there is no flame, and where there is no flame he is not drawn. He retreats from the room so he does not to ruin his resolve, and then he focuses on his drink, on drinking and avoiding the one thing he feels drawn to the most.

Usually he is the one to seek Casey out, the one to call her at odd hours to inform her of a cake-pie hybrid, the one to show up on her doorstep a week early because birthdays should really be birthweeks and celebrated every day in anticipation. He can count the times she has sought him out – drunken encounter to get back at Evan notwithstanding- on one hand: A big fat zero. She has never come strictly for him, if she is at Kappa Tau it is for Rusty, or for a ZBZ related issue, she has never sought out him for him since their breakup. He should feel hurt, he should feel angry actually, but he can never really hold anything against her, instead he finds solace in the fact that he should be able to avoid her tonight without issue.

Tonight however, seems to defy history; perhaps it is the presence of alcohol, or the fact that there are more than one "Alice's" at tonight's themed bash (not that he would ever mix her up with another), whatever the reason, it seems avoiding her is near impossible. Tonight her flame finds his moth several times as he attempts to hide away, tonight she does not approach, nor does she shy away. Neither of them has spoken to one another yet, in fact he realizes they have yet to come within ten feet of each other. He sighs, tonight she seems different, unsure as she lingers at the edge of the room, her gaze flitting his way, then away again. This troubles him: her presence both intrigues and wounds him; she overwhelms him until the lights and buzz prove to be too much for him, a seasoned partier, and he extracts himself not so politely from a not so intelligent conversation with a Tri Pi and leaves the party downstairs for the quiet of the roof.

The roof kills the noise, dims the lights and clears his head. He stumbles the last two steps though he is far from intoxicated, and once on the cold concrete he breathes a sigh of relief. Up here he can breathe. He makes his way over to a well positioned couch - that had found its way onto the roof at a party thrown sometime at the beginning of the semester- and collapse onto the well worn piece of furniture.

He tosses the plastic cup behind him and rubs his face with both hands. Her face was troubling him, she didn't make sense tonight. There were several other Halloween parties on campus, many of which held the prestige she desired in her ridiculous pursuit of collegiate sorority supremacy and yet here she was tonight. Was she here for him? She hadn't made to approach him but then again he can't remember seeing her conversing with anyone in particular tonight. She sticks out like a sore thumb tonight, brilliant and shining in the midst of his drunken frat brothers and the scantily clad Tri Pi's. He is thankful once again that he is removed from her up on the roof as her magnetic pull is a painful reminder of how he has never really managed to get over her. It seems almost obscene that it was two years ago now that they spent Halloween together, they had dressed up as a couple, something nauseatingly cute like the Flintstones or Mr. And Mrs. Smith but he can't really remember what, but he remembers that she looked amazing and that he had loved every minute of it. That was during the Golden Age of their relationship, that was the time when he could do no wrong and every spare second was spent in each other's company. That brief period in time had been spontaneous, passionate and exciting; beautiful really. And then something had shifted, then there were their respective houses to worry about, and drinking and pledging and somewhere along the way he had started blowing his chances.

He sighs and rubs his face again, feeling slightly irked that he is up here alone in a fairly decent pirate costume on Halloween instead of partying downstairs with his brothers. But with her downstairs, looking so beautiful, so out of place, his urges to comfort her and pull her into his safe cocoon were far from platonic and though he isn't drunk, he is far too intoxicated to bother with the bullshit friend's game they were playing. He wonders how long all this will last.

"Cappie?"

She is beside him suddenly, sinking down onto the cushions with more grace that should be possible at any alcohol fuelled event.

"Hey"

He turns to face her and his startled by the look in her eyes: She looks different, impassioned, determined but vulnerable too; nervous. His hands twitch at his sides, and he feels her pull now more than ever. There is silence for a moment and she looks like she is struggling for words so he swallows his pride and falls into his charade of the fun loving sort of friend.

" So, Alice, how's Wonderland working out for yo-"

She cuts him off mid-charade.

"I came here for you"

He can feel himself freeze, can feel every muscle, every bone, even his blood freeze at her words. He regards her silently, now is one of those times where he dare not say anything or else the day dream will shatter before his eyes and the flame will singe his wings.

He forces himself to nod, and he prays with every fibre in his being that she finds the gesture encouraging.

"I came here for you. And I've been meaning to talk to you all night; actually I've been meaning to talk to you for a while. But I just couldn't- look I. What I'm trying to say is I'm here. I know I'm late, I know that I look like a freaking preppy outsider here, even in costume but I came for you. I-I I came to see you"

He cuts her off this time to save her, and himself. He doesn't want to hear the rest even though his whole being is singing at her words. He doesn't want to hear the end, about how she's been neglecting their friendship or some bullshit like that, because if she does, pretending he's not still in love with her will become that much harder.

"Hey, hey Case. I'm glad you came. Whatever's bothering you don't worry.... its good that you're here. I'm happy you're here."

She shakes her head vehemently and puts her hand up to stop him.

"No Cap, you don't get it. I'm here because I'm an idiot and because I've been an idiot for too long to ignore. I'm here now because it's taken that long for me to get over myself and I'm here because I'm desperate enough to beg".

Confusion, hope, worry; his heart flutters and he opens his mouth to question her but she continues before he can make a sound.

She chuckles without really laughing. It's a nervous habit, something she does so rarely he has to force himself to sit still and not reach over and hug her until she is confidant and smiling again.

"Do you remember when we were going out, how you were always asking me for one last chance?"

Remorse floods him and it is all he can do to nod without grimacing. He had been a shitty boyfriend back then.

She bites her lip nervously and then continues, a fresh look of determination painting her face.

"Look I came here tonight because it's my turn to beg. Because I've been treating you like shit for too long, and I've done nothing but hurt you and use you and you've done nothing but be there, and here I am again, Cap. But this time, I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to tell you that I want to be just friends because I don't, I haven't wanted just friends ever since that kiss on spring break. Actually what the hell, I've wanted you since way before then, I don't think I ever really stopped wanting you. I just, I just got too busy being an idiot and god I don't know I'm rambling . But basically all I want to say is that it's my turn to put myself on the line for everything Cap. It's my turn to ask for one last chance, and I know-"

His lips are one hers before she can say another word. The kiss is far from perfect because he is smiling so wide he can't kiss quite up to par and because her mouth is frozen in shock. But soon it is perfect, soon her mouth moves against his and he can feel her smiling against him as well. Soon the kiss is perfect and warm and familiar , and very heated as he gives into her pull by pulling her onto his lap and holding her as close as he can possibly get her because the its been too long since he's had a kiss that perfect, because it's been too long since he's kissed her with such freedom.

She pulls away first and her face is a strange mix of giddy smiling and nerves.

" So...this is one last chance"

He laughs and strokes her check, revelling in the fact that he can do this without worry of ruining a friendship or breaking up a relationship.

"This is one last chance"

He kisses her again. The conversation, the hammering out of all the details (Casey was always one for verbal reassurance and organization), the apologies and the freshly excavated "I-Love-You's" can wait until tomorrow, right now there is his lips, her lips and their kiss. He kisses her again; he kisses her again and again and again because this is fate, and this is chance and this time things are going to work out for the better: He kisses her again.

* * *

Finally, I wrote a honest to goodness actual happy ending. And it's not like, 2 words =)

As always **reviews** are air and I breath them to stay alive.

Merci,

-A


	5. Follow Through

This is a post-finale oneshot, dealing with the events that took place at the End of the World party.

This is pushing the T rating ....really far actually it should be an M but my writing isn't very explicit so that is why I didn't bother pushing the rating higher. This chapter however deals with mature subject matter and themes as they are in fact in bed for the entire scene.

Anyways onto the story:

* * *

Follow Through

* * *

"That was ..."

She bites her lip and buries her face in his chest.

"amazing?"

He laughs, his hand is drawing lazy circles on her skin and she bats it away because it is making her crazy and she doesn't yet have the energy for round two. Seconds later his hand is at her skin, and this time he purposely lingers at her hips, drawing his fingers so close and then pulling away.

She lifts her head and glares at him; the beginning of an insult on the tip of her tongue but it melts into a sigh as his fingers graze between her thighs. His laughter is quietly rumbling in his chest because she knows he knows that she hates that she loves this. She pokes him with the wiry strength only she can posses and pouts.

"You are the biggest tease I know Cappie"

His laughter escapes his chest through his mouth. His hand leaves her hips and tangles itself in her hair.

"You know that would only be an insult if I wasn't able to follow through"

He trails off and pulls her up for a lingering kiss. She's pretty sure she's smouldering and is definitely reconsidering her level of exhaustion because oh -my-god the boy can kiss. Just as she begins to melt into the kiss, he pulls away with a wicked grin and whispers in her ear.

" But you and I both know..."

He flips them over so he is above her, his arms braced on either side of her face. It's embarrassing how wide her smile is but she's pretty sure this is a perfect moment. He lowers himself to kiss her again; instinctively her legs wrap around his waist and she is almost shaken at how right this all feels.

His lips touch her ear, his tongue traces the edge, she sighs and the arm she has wrapped around his shoulder clenches in anticipation.

"you and I both know I can..."

He kisses her cheek.

"more..."

Her closed eyes.

"Than..."

Her nose.

"follow"...

Her chin.

"through."

And his lips reach her open mouth again, and she is clutching him to her body and he is clutching right back.

There is something so strangely surreal about this, the fact that they fit together so easily, in such a familiar way and yet she feels this is all new, his body his touch is new and perfect and arousing and comforting all at once.

His hands are all over her ; stroking, cupping, kneading: needing and she can't help but arch into his form, can't help but gasp at his lips on her chest, or loll her head when his fingers slip between her legs, can't help but cry out when his mouth takes over.

But even more satisfying are his reactions; after his initial rejection there is something so gratifying about the way he smiles into her kiss, or the way his muscles jump at her touch, or the way he lets out only the smallest of satisfied gasps when he comes. Oh, she is more than ready for round two.

She pulls his face up from her breast and smiles at him. A silly, giddy, I'm so into you right now it's almost embarrassing sort of smile- and given the confrontation in the closet this night it should be embarrassing, except that he is wearing the same smile, and he is here feeling the same way as her.

She strokes his face, fingers tracing cheeks, nose, and ears and finally her thumbs brush his mouth.

"I'm so glad you came back for me, Cap"

He kisses her palm.

"I'd apologize again for my behaviour in the closet but we work things out so much better this way don't we"

She sticks her tongue out.

"You're such a horn dog"

He grins lazily and cocks an eyebrow

"I know, but you love me for it"

She's serious suddenly, her legs a little tighter round his waist, and her hands a little firmer round his face. She isn't sure those words had been said in their bare all; say all, once and for all fight. He had come over so riled up and unapologetic to scold her for breaking up with Max, only to stop halfway through his rant when she had keeled over in tears, and then there was the comforting, which led to the apologies, which led to remembering why they were mad in the first place. And the things that had been said, the insults hurled, fake, fuck up, stuck up, disappointment, prissy sorority girl, slovenly frat boy ... she shudders at the memory and holds him closer.

But after all the words had been thrown like grenades, they dismantled their weapons and had landed on a heap in the floor, pooling into confessions so sweet, so personal she had felt like a princess in a movie. Then silence had settled, and the awkwardness of what now, which was somehow shattered by his lips on hers, frantic and needing and exhausted all at once, until she was kissing back and they were in her room commencing round one.

She snaps back to the present and he is gazing at her intently.

" I do, you know" She says finally, and continues her confession with a soft smile.

"I really do love you Cap"

He smiles, almost bashfully.

"Me too" He laughs

" You, I mean, I love you"

And then his lips are on hers and the kiss is a little more intense and a little more earth shattering and she is pretty certain that she is about to spontaneously combust were it not for her determination to stay present for all of round two. He pulls away only to adjust himself and then he is fully in; his hips meeting hers as his lips brush hers again, and oh, my god, this is perfect.

Afterward, panting and sweaty, she resumes her position on his chest, and he resumes his duty of stroking her hair.

She giggles suddenly and nips at his chest.

" We are the most ridiculous pair of people..."

She tilts her head to look and him and her heart flutters like an adolescent with a schoolyard crush at the sight of his smile.

" Really Case? Ridiculous?"

She pokes at him jokingly.

"Yes, ridiculous. I mean, I'd like to think that no one can get away with being as stupid as we have except for us"

He kisses her head.

" By stupid I'm going to assume you mean, dancing around each other's feelings for so long that when push comes to shove the only way we can be together and admit any feelings is by means of a near death experience and the end the world?"

"Uh....yes?"

"Well then I agree, I think that both of us are incredibly stupid for not seeing we could have saved each other a ton of grief by hopping into bed and working out our issues, and then you know, becoming a couple again "

She laughs and pulls his hand to her mouth for a kiss, she lingers on one of his fingers and he groans.

"Casey I dunno, as much as I'd love round three, I'm pretty sure my little swimmers are going to need a little while to replenish...but I can always be persuaded"

"You are such a guy Cap, I wasn't even thinking about round three"

He chuckles at this and returns the favour by kissing her hand.

"Oh yeah, then what were you thinking of"

She drags herself up so she is leaning over him.

"I was thinking we should break out an old tradition"

He cocks and eyebrow and smirks

"What kind of tradition"

She smiles and pecks him teasingly close to his mouth

"You know, something that starts with P and rhymes with eye"

He is grinning unabashedly at her, his arms coming around to pull her even closer.

" Coconut custard?"

Her lips cover his for a tantalisingly slow kiss and she pulls away just as he begins to deepen it.

"Perfect"

She moves in for another kiss but he frowns and places his and over her mouth.

"What about a new flavour, what about something different to signify this reunion?"

Her lips free themselves of his hand and she mumbles out a final sentence before closing the gap between their mouths.

"Even better"

Then his lips are moving against hers, and his hands are making the exciting journey across her skin, while her hands map his chest and her lips chart his mouth and face. She has an inkling that the reunion pie will probably be put on hold for round three, or even four and five but at this point in time she really couldn't care less.

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**Review** and it would pretty much make me the happiest person ever

-A


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